Never the Same
by sazza-da-vampire
Summary: After the Battle of the Five Armies, Dwalin's life will never be the same. In his experience, the good is always accompanied by the bad; he shouldn't be surprised. Fili, however, has something to say which will forever change Dwalin's life. Featuring Dwalin, Fili, and Dwalin's daughter Dawn, with cameos from Dis, Ori, Dain, Gloin and Balin.


Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable. Contains major spoilers for the Hobbit: There and Back Again.

Never the Same

Dwalin strode through the healers' tents, brooding. Thorin was still unconscious, though the elven healers promised that he'd wake up. They couldn't, however, promise that when he woke up he'd be out of danger.

Balin at least was a load off his mind. Dwalin's older brother had woken up that morning, and the bruise on his head which the healers had feared would be a problem had proved harmless. Balin would be fine, as soon as his dislocated shoulder healed.

The good news had been coupled with bad, in a fashion Dwalin should have become used to by now. No sooner had Balin been released from the healers, then Ori had come running, tears streaming down his face. "Kíli!" the young dwarf had sobbed, all but falling into Dwalin's arms. "Kíli's dead."

The words rang in Dwalin's ears even now. How was he going to tell Fíli, who even now fought for his life, that his brother – his other half, the centre of his existence – was gone? It should have been Thorin bearing the news, but Thorin was as good as dead at the moment, and it had been decided that Dwalin would be the best to bear the news to Fíli.

He arrived outside the tent he needed, took a deep breath, and plunged inside. Instantly the bright sunlight was cut off, and he stopped just inside the flap, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim tent. Fíli lay on a cot at the back of the tent, fevered eyes bright as he stared at Dwalin, though the older dwarf wondered whether Fíli even recognised him.

"Kíli is gone," Fíli rasped, forgoing greetings. Dwalin simply nodded, unable to voice his thoughts. How had Fíli known? It had been barely an hour, and no-one had born any messages to Fíli yet, the dwarves had ensured it.

Dwalin spied a stool, and roughly dragged it over so that he could sit by Fíli's bedside. "I'm sorry, lad," he finally croaked, the words sticking in his throat. He remembered Kíli as the vibrant child he'd once been, untouched by war, innocent and sweet. The poor child had lost his father, an uncle and both grandfathers before he'd known them, and had grown up without the sense of loss and grief which had plagued Fíli's childhood. No matter that Dwalin knew Kíli had been a warrior to his last breath, he would always remember him, in his heart, as the child he'd helped raise.

"No," Fíli argued weakly, a little bubble of blood dribbling out of his mouth as he slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry for everything. Tell Dawn I'm sorry."

Dwalin started. Dawn? Why was Fíli mentioning Dwalin's daughter at a time like this? What could Fíli possibly have to apologise about?

But Fíli wasn't finished. Each word was a clear effort, but he forced his thoughts out into the air. "I go now to join my brother. I wish there was another way, but already I am drowning. Tell Dawn I did it all for her. Everything I did, I did for her. In Erebor, in my room, there's a ring on the dresser… It was for her... It is for Dawn... I would have married her… I would have raised our child a prince, or a princess of Erebor... I'm sorry, Dawn, I'm sorry I have to leave you."

Dwalin stared at Fíli, lost for words. Fíli coughed weakly, and Dwalin instinctively tried to help him sit up, to cough out the blood suffocating him. His mind was whirling. Diamonds? A child? Dawn? Dwalin didn't know how he felt, as he helped Fíli lay back into his pillows, and ran a soothing hand over the lad's cheek.

"Shh," he said, as Fíli fought back, trying to sit up. "Just rest, Fíli. You'll be fine. Let me get you a healer."

"No!" Fíli said deliriously as he renewed his struggles. Dwalin sighed, pushed Fíli back onto the bed, and wiped the blood that spilled from his lips away.

"Alright, I'm not going anywhere, lad. Calm down, you'll hurt yourself."

"Tell Dawn," Fíli murmured, writhing as unseen demons plagued him. Dwalin touched his forehead with the back of his hand, finding that Fíli was burning up. "Don't tell Dwalin," Fíli added breathlessly. "He'll kill me if he finds out."

Dwalin chuckled involuntarily. It was true enough, or it had been before the battle of five armies. Even now, he felt a strong urge to punch the lights out of Fíli for daring to touch his precious daughter.

"I'll tell Dawn," he promised.

"Give her the ring," Fíli inisisted, before a wheezing cough stole his breath. "Tell her I love her," he murmured, and Dwalin squeezed Fíli's hand supportively.

"I will," he promised in a broken voice, but Fíli never heard, for his last breath slipped out as he finally drowned in his own blood.

Dwalin sat with Fíli until an elven healer arrived to check on him. She gasped upon seeing Dwalin and Fíli, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she murmured, before placing a lithe hand on Dwalin's shoulder. "I did all I could, but his lungs were pierced. There was little to be done but to make him comfortable."

.

Dwalin didn't know what to feel. Thorin's life hung on a knife's edge, Bilbo still had not been found, Kíli and Fíli were both dead, Bofur and Bifur were still fighting for their lives, and yet the only thing his mind allowed him to comprehend were Fíli's last words, and what they meant.

_Dawn is pregnant_. Dwalin's daughter, the precious lass he'd give his life to protect, had been pregnant even before they'd left for the Shire, and yet the only one who'd known had been the child's father – Fíli, of all people.

Not even Dwalin had known.

Dwalin wanted to rage at Fíli for keeping such a secret from him, he wanted to break the lad's arms, he wanted to lock Dawn up, away from Fíli.

At the same time, he wanted to hug Dawn and Fíli, one under each arm, and congratulate them on the miracle of life, he wanted to walk Dawn down the aisle, he wanted to preside over the wedding of Prince Fíli and Princess Dawn.

He wanted to hold his grandchild, tell him or her stories of his time with Thorin, and protect him or her from the world.

He could act on none of these emotions, though, for Fíli lay cold and still as stone, beside his brother, ready to be buried as soon as the survivors were prepared and the missing found. Dawn was on the other side of Middle Earth, and by now she'd be at least halfway through her pregnancy, if not more. Dwalin would not return in time to see his grandchild born.

He found himself inside Erebor, his wandering feet seeming to have taken him where he needed to go while he tried to get a grip on his emotions. He was looking at the door of the Prince's Quarters, the room where Fíli and Kíli had retreated to while the other dwarves had fallen, to various degrees, to the treasure sickness.

Steeling himself, Dwalin pushed the door open. It opened easily, revealing a dusty yet once lavish sitting room. Tracks in the dust led to and from a single room, presumably the bedroom. Two packs lay on the floor inside, one each side of the door. Dwalin recognised the few belongings Fíli and Kíli had held onto throughout their journey, which they had left inside during the battle. Dwalin chuckled fondly upon seeing Fíli's coat, flung on the ground, with its many hidden pockets and sheaths revealed by the way the coat lay almost inside out. Even now, three or four tiny daggers were visible, having been missed by the elven guards in Mirkwood, for they were stuffed deep into hidden pockets far inside the coat.

They had gone unused in the end, though, Dwalin remembered fondly. Nori had explained that he could unlock the doors if he had time unobserved, and Fíli had volunteered to lend out three of the four daggers he'd claimed to still have, but it had been decided to wait for Bilbo, for they would have surely been caught while Nori unlocked the cells, or else when they got lost, for they had not known a way out other than the main gate which was guarded.

Something in Dwalin's mind triggered him to glance at the dresser, where a small box lay in the centre of the otherwise clear space, the dust around it having been swept off by a hand. The box glinted with gold leaf in a bold design, one which Dwalin vaguely remembered as being the sigil of the queen who had ruled by Thror's side in Dwalin's youth. Picking up the box, Dwalin was overcome with a tense feeling, as he realised that this was the moment he'd find out whether Fíli had been deadly serious in all that he'd said, or if he'd been delirious with fever and attempting to distract himself from drowning in his own blood.

Dwalin took a deep breath to steady himself. _One, two, three, _he counted, and opened the box on its tiny hinges.

A folded piece of parchment fluttered out, landing on the desk. Dwalin ignored it for the moment, though, as he realised that Fíli had not been making things up. Before the battle, he had indeed placed a beautiful engagement ring on the dresser.

It was plainly obvious that the ring was meant as an engagement ring, for in the customs of the dwarves, an engagement ring was given to the future bride when the prospective groom asked for her hand in marriage. Wedding rings would then be exchanged at the marriage, in a similar fashion to the elven and mannish customs, though dwarves' wedding rings were more often gold than silver. The engagement rings were often adorned with a precious gem.

This ring was one of the most beautiful rings Dwalin had ever seen. It was set in mithril, true-silver, and the band was wide enough such that a dwarven woman would not feel like she might break or bend it with daily wear. A large diamond was set in the top, and though Dwalin was no jeweller, he suspected that not even Gloin would find anything imperfect about it. As far as Dwalin could guess, it was a brilliant cut, flawless, purely white, and at least two carats. The band was decorated with clusters of tiny diamonds, so that the band would glitter in any light.

_This is wrong_, Dwalin realised. _That I should find this, with Fíli dead and Dawn still in the Blue Mountains. Fíli should have given this to Dawn himself, when she arrives here with Dis, Gimli, and all the rest of our families. _He choked back a sob, and placed the box down on the dresser once more. The piece of parchment drifted in the slight breeze created by Dwalin's movement, and he picked it up hesitantly, wondering if he could cope with what he might find.

_Dawn, loveliest rose of the Blue Mountains,_ the parchment read in a beautiful script which Dwalin recognised from Fíli's years of tutoring under his brother Balin.

_If you are reading this, I have died in the looming battle. This ring once belonged to my great-grandmother, the last Queen under the Mountain. I found it in her rooms, which have been untouched since before the dragon ever came. No spell of dragon-sickness ever lay on this piece, for old Smaug probably didn't even know it was there. I want you to have this ring, as a declaration of my love, and as something which will ensure you are treated as a Princess, as is your right as the mother of my child. _

_I realise that the babe will never know me, and for that I am sorry. _

_I love you, and I love our child with all my heart. _

_This letter is to serve as proof of our child's status in Erebor, if it must come to that. _

_I, Fíli, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain, declare the child of Dawn, daughter of Dwalin, to be my child, and to be my heir. _

_I love you, Dawn. _

_Fíli_

Dwalin had tears running down his cheeks by the time he finished reading the letter. Folding it up along the existing creases, he placed it back inside the jewellery box, snapping the lid shut with a deft movement.

He placed the box and its precious contents into his pocket, turned his back on the room, and left without a second tear-filled glance.

He didn't know what he was supposed to feel.

What he did feel was overwhelming sadness, for both his daughter and the lad who should have been his son-in-law.

.

Months later, the migrants from the Blue Mountains arrived in Erebor. King Dain greeted them at the Front Gate, Dwalin at one side and Gloin at the other, for they were representing the Company.

Dwalin's heart lurched into his throat when he caught his first glimpse in almost a year of his beautiful daughter. Dawn rode a shaggy pony, beside Dis at the front of the party. Her curls were as bouncy as ever, rich brown locks shining in the sunlight with a coppery tint, a wispy beard defining her strong jawline. Little braids were woven into her hair, attempting to control the curls, and escaped strands framed her face prettily.

"Dawn!" he called, leaving King Dain behind and running to help his daughter dismount.

"Dad!" she called back, a bright smile lighting her face. Dwalin reached her side, and reached his hands up, she placed her own hands on his shoulders as she had done so often in her youth. When Dwalin lifted her down, though, she was far heavier than he remembered, and her heavily pregnant belly made her movements awkward.

The moment her feet were on solid ground, Dawn allowed Dwalin to wrap her into a tight hug.

"Dawn!" a voice suddenly called, and Dawn pulled free of her father's arms to greet her dear old Uncle Balin, who stopped short at the sight of her. "Woah!" he exclaimed. "You've swallowed a fishbowl!"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm pregnant, uncle," she said, exasperated, before her eyes widened and she turned back to Dwalin. "Oh, no," she gasped. "Please don't kill him! It was my choice!"

Dwalin's face fell, and he enveloped his daughter into another hug as he tried to hide his face as he teared up. She didn't know – none of them knew – that Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were all dead.

Dain was making an announcement, something about a feast, but Dwalin did not listen. He had far more important things on his mind – like how to tell his daughter that her unborn child's father was long dead.

.

The Prince's Quarters had been aired out and made fit for habitation at Dwalin's request. Not even Balin had been privy to Dwalin's emotional torment.

Dwalin led Dawn to the sitting room, resplendent in its full glory, and sat her down in the newly reupholstered chaise. "This was the Prince's Room, once upon a time. It is yours, now," Dwalin began.

Dawn smiled, and said, "It's beautiful, Dad." She glanced at her intertwined fingers, and back up to her father's eyes. "Did Fíli tell you, then? I hope you didn't hurt him," she murmured, looking back down."

Dwalin took the little box from his pocket, holding it loosely in his fingers. "Dawn," he started hesitantly, "he wanted you to have this."

Dawn's eyes snapped up to meet Dwalin's. "Wanted?" she asked, dread filling her eye and voice.

"I'm sorry," Dwalin said, holding out the little box. "It was the day after the battle. Kíli died first, and we were fast losing Thorin. Fíli didn't even know who he was talking to, he just wanted someone to know to give you this."

"No!" Dawn stood, screaming out her denial. "No! Dad, stop! Just stop it! You're lying! It can't be," she fell, sobbing into Dwalin's arms when she saw the truth in his eyes and face. "He can't be dead," she sobbed, as Dwalin awkwardly patted her back.

"He said he loves you, and the babe. He said he would have married you, he would have raised your child as a Prince or Princess of Erebor. And he said he's sorry he couldn't live for you." The words came out thickly, and Dwalin was not even sure that Dawn had understood them all, but the meaning seemed to be clear to her, for she continued sobbing in a defeated manner. "Here, love, he wanted you to have this," Dwalin said, pressing the little jewellery box into Dawn's hands.

She opened the box hesitantly. Gasping as she beheld the massive diamond ring, she tentatively removed it from the box, placing it on her ring finger and admiring it through teary eyes. It fitted perfectly, and she turned her hand over for a quick look at the band – she herself was a jeweller, and she was quite frankly impressed at Fíli's skill in resizing the band, for there was only a small seam visible where he had shrunk the band to fit Dawn. "It's perfect," she breathed, looking up at Dwalin and bursting into tears. "He was perfect," she sobbed, once more flinging herself into Dwalin's shoulder to cry.

"There's a note," Dwalin finally murmured when Dawn had calmed down. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" he asked, looking into his daughter's bright eyes, so like his own and yet so different.

.

The feast was well underway before Dawn showed herself. She strode straight to the High Table as if she were a princess in her own halls, head held high and glittering with precious jewellery. The Queen's ring gleamed on her left hand, plainly displayed for all close enough to see.

Her heavily pregnant figure was accentuated by the drape of her silk gown, causing all the remaining members of the Company to gape at her as she approached.

"Good evening, my dear. Are you the missing daughter the Ten Companions have been wondering about?" Dain said, standing to greet the new addition as she made a beeline for the empty seat between Balin and Dwalin. Dawn stopped a couple of meters from the King.

"It is my understanding," Dawn said in a strong, clear voice that carried through the hall, "that you have claimed the title of King Under the Mountain, Dain."

"This is true, for in the wake of the heirs of Thror, other heirs of Durin must pick up the slack," Dain responded carefully, eyeing up the pregnant dwarf lass he did not know.

"Thror's descendants are not all dead and gone," Dawn challenged.

"If you refer to Princess Dis, she has abdicated her right to the throne, for she has no wish to wear the crown that should have been her brother's, and should have gone to her sons."

"I do not refer to Princess Dis, for I am well aware that she has no desire to wear the crown. I refer to the child of Fíli, son of Dis, who is directly descended from Thror, and is the Heir of Durin, before you, my Lord, in the line of succession."

"Prince Fíli was unmarried, and had no children."

"It is true that he never married, but that is due to circumstance rather than desire. My child is the heir to this throne," she declared, and the hall, already quiet enough to hear a pin drop, exploded into outraged shouts. Dain stared at Dawn as the din died down, and Dawn held out the piece of parchment upon which her status – and her child's – depended. If Dain chose not to believe her, or declared the letter a forgery, she and her child would be cast out, labelled a liar and a bastard, or worse.

"What is that?" Dain asked, eyeing the parchment.

"A letter written by Fíli before the battle, in case he did not return."

Dain took the letter, eyes widening as he scanned the creased page. "How am I to know if this is a fakery, written by you to climb the social ladder in this kingdom even as we found the realm?"

"In the Blue Mountains, there were many who knew Fíli and I as we grew up. Ask my cousin Gloin, to whom I was apprenticed for some years, or my uncle Balin, who tutored Fíli and then myself for many years. Princess Dis can vouch for me over the past year, for she knew of my involvement with her son."

"Balin, Gloin, Dis, what say you?"

Dis immediately stated, standing and glaring at Dain for daring to doubt her, "Lady Dawn carries my grandchild. There is no doubt."

Balin passed the page to Gloin, and announced, "I believe this is truly Prince Fíli's handwriting. You can see the distinctive curves in the letters, and the slant of the lines. The seal at the bottom is certainly Fíli's, for it is his sigil, and you can even see the spot where there is a chip in the ring, from when, on a clifftop at the edge of the Misty Mountains, he almost had his hand ripped off by a warg. Getting that tooth out of his hand was not a pleasant experience. It cannot have been copied from any of Fíli's belongings in the Blue Mountains. This letter was written by Fíli, and sealed sometime after the Misty Mountains – which really means in Erebor before the battle, for there was no other time when Fíli might have had access to parchment and ink."

Gloin was now finished with his own inspection, and he said, "This is not Lady Dawn's handwriting. I agree with Balin. This was written by Prince Fíli."

"What does it say?" Ori wondered aloud, blushing when everyone's attention fell to him.

Dain took a breath, and took the page back from Gloin. "_Dawn, loveliest rose of the Blue Mountains,_

_"If you are reading this, I have died in the looming battle. This ring once belonged to my great-grandmother, the last Queen under the Mountain. I found it in her rooms, which have been untouched since before the dragon ever came. No spell of dragon-sickness ever lay on this piece, for old Smaug probably didn't even know it was there. I want you to have this ring, as a declaration of my love, and as something which will ensure you are treated as a Princess, as is your right as the mother of my child. _

_"I realise that the babe will never know me, and for that I am sorry. _

_"I love you, and I love our child with all my heart. _

_"This letter is to serve as proof of our child's status in Erebor, if it must come to that. _

_"I, Fíli, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain, declare the child of Dawn, daughter of Dwalin, to be my child, and to be my heir. _

_"I love you, Dawn. _

_"Fíli."_

The hall was enveloped in silence as everyone stared at Dawn. Most had known that Dawn was pregnant, but they'd assumed it was by one of the local lads, probably someone who stayed in the Blue Mountains and would not own up to getting the girl pregnant. None had known for sure that Fíli was the father of Dawn's unborn child.

"Now that is settled," Dawn said, striding to her seat between her father and uncle, "I am eating for two, and this little royal craves some of that pork."


End file.
